Just returned home tonight to seven squad cars and nine of Avondale's finest breaking up a big disturbance next door (involving at least ten people).
I have heard that the house next to us was turned into Section-8 housing last year. If that is true, I'd like to give a great big sarcastic thanks-a-lot to our state government for helping to turn a perfectly peaceful neighborhood into an episode of COPS.
Monday, September 03, 2007
"132 & Bush, I've Got Him at Gunpoint"
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5 comments:
What in the world!! You have got to get out of the "hood" and move to Fountain Hills!! However, I have seen police driving my neighbohood, too. Just never surrounding a home with weapons pulled.
according to fbi crime data, violent crime is just as likely in fountain hills as it is in goodyear...very interesting! so, michael & heidi would really just be trading one "hood" for another.
hey better than gunshots coming from your front yard....brent still swears they weren't gunshots, but we all know the truth! hahah!! love you guys!
that's what we get for living a few miles north in the city limits of phoenix...crime rate is through the roof! see you tomorrow at work...if i make it through the night! jess will not find that last comment funny in the slightest. by the way, we'll be sleeping with the mattress on the floor again tonight because of this post...thank you very much!
brent
[This comment is to be sung with a sarcastic tone]
As the snow flies
On a cold and gray chicago mornin
A poor little baby child is born
In the ghetto
And his mama cries
cause if theres one thing that she dont need
Its another hungry mouth to feed
In the ghetto
People, dont you understand
The child needs a helping hand
Or he'll grow to be an angry young man some day
Take a look at you and me,
Are we too blind to see,
Do we simply turn our heads
And look the other way
Well the world turns
And a hungry little boy with a runny nose
Plays in the street as the cold wind blows
In the ghetto
And his hunger burns
So he starts to roam the streets at night
And he learns how to steal
And he learns how to fight
In the ghetto
Then one night in desperation
A young man breaks away
He buys a gun, steals a car,
Tries to run, but he dont get far
And his mama cries
As a crowd gathers round an angry young man
Face down on the street with a gun in his hand
In the ghetto
As her young man dies,
On a cold and gray chicago mornin,
Another little baby child is born
In the ghetto
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